Letter to a Tyrant by Margaret Anna Alice
I won’t bother to reason with you or appeal to your compassion—because you have none. You are a foul, fetid, festering, fiendish, fear-fomenting fecker devoid of soul, purpose, and meaning.
No matter how many lives you masticate, hearts you shred, minds you menticide, and puppet strings you try to throttle us with, you will forever remain a hollow husk of a simulated human.
I know you envy us our feelings. You seethe with rage, jealousy, loathing, terror, disgust, and every other malevolent emotion, but you are incapable of comprehending love, joy, friendship, warmth, and abiding peace.
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This letter isn’t to beg or plead or ask you to stop. This letter is to put you on notice. This letter is to tell you the people are waking, and it is you who have shaken us awake. You have sown the seeds of your own obliteration, and those seeds are germinating.
None of your efforts to enshroud the sun, contaminate the soil, befoul the water, defile the oceans, toxify the air, autodarwinate seeds, sequester the food supply, extinguish species, or commodify the ecosystem can stop those seeds from bursting through the earth and winding their tendrils around your Nuremberged neck.
In a way, we should thank you.
You have shown your hand so recklessly because you were certain we would roll over. So confident were you in the psychological conditioning you subjected us to—following Biderman’s Chart of Coercion like a recipe—you expected us to jump in the pot voluntarily.
You were half-right, sadly.
But the fence-sitters are now witnessing the nuclear fallout from your detonation of The Great Democide, and they can no longer deny the torrent of reality acid-raining down upon us.
Foolishly forgetting to administer the elite’s faux injections to the most visible tier instead of the commoners’ poison death shot was a clumsy fumble that’s too obvious to miss. You remembered a few celebrities like this one and this one but forgot the athletes, and now they’re collapsing in a pile on the field.
And your victims, the ones you maimed, the ones you sterilized, the ones you failed to fell immediately, the ones whose loved ones you slayed, are speaking out about their suffering.*
And now you’re coming for the children. Even the wokety-woke NPC Covidians aren’t buying it anymore:
